Known
in the West as Richard Morley, 'Daijhi' is the affectionate name given
to our columnist by his Nepali family who live on the edge of the Kathmandu
Valley.

Despite an East
German upbringing and family background, he was educated at Dartmouth
College and served six years as an officer in the British Royal Navy,
seeing active service in two campaigns against Iceland in the 1970's.
He later read History and Political Science at Birmingham and Cambridge
Universities but chose a career in the Theatre, launching his own Manchester
Drama Company in 1984. He wrote, produced and directed the first stage
version of Evelyn Waugh's famous novel 'Brideshead Revisited' in 1985
to much critical acclaim.

From the early
1980's, with the traditional family in the West under great pressure
from social change, he also worked with some University friends to develop
a new structure of family unit. They created a 'Molecular' model in
which individuals chose to collectivise on a permanent basis adding
a new member every few years. Under his leadership, the new family flourished
both financially and emotionally. He built a successful computer company,
moved into Hotels and property development and became a well known millionaire
with a historic country estate. But he was never far from controversy.
A strong critic of Margaret Thatcher's handling of the Falklands War,
he published an article accusing the Conservative Government of conspiracy
to encourage the conflict and became embroiled in the huge controversy
over their decision to sink an Argentine warship with the loss of 350
lives. Outspoken opinions in favour of international freedom of movement
and new family structures provoked some tabloid media to describe him
as 'King of the Commune Castle'. But his new family unit provided stability
and a sense of purpose that has kept it strong and intact to the present
day.

But
it was through his association with Nepal that brought Daijhi to international
attention. He first travelled there in the 1970's when the early student
backpackers began to discover it. In those days a cheap direct bus service
ran through Europe to Kathmandu. The journey took seven days and the
weary travellers were only too happy to spend many months wandering
about the mountains. Daijhi thought it was the most beautiful country
in the world and so he returned whenever he could.

In 1984, he fell
seriously ill whilst trekking near Daulaghiri. A policeman, Basu Khadka,
ran for 3 days to the nearest telephone in Jomson and called for help.
It was a gesture that Daijhi never forgot. He offered a reward but the
man refused any money. Worried about his own health, Basu asked Daijhi
instead to care for his youngest son should anything befall him. And
so a promise was made that shaped the destiny of everyone concerned.

A few years later
Basu died and Daijhi kept his word. He returned in 1990 to search for
the boy and, after a two-month trek, he eventually found Jayaram Khadka
working in a Bakhtapur restaurant. The boy recognised him from a photograph
his father had once given when explaining how a tall Westerner would
rescue him one day. Jayaram knew that Daijhi was to be his adoptive
father and so he promised to be a dutiful son to him. His new father
promised in turn to care for him as his own son and the pact was sealed
in a simple exchange of blood from their fingers. The spoken language
was difficult between them and it was gesture that could not be mistaken
by either.

Jayaram was taken
to England for his education but the British Government stubbornly refused
to recognise his adoption. Because they would not let him stay, ironically
he couldn't leave Britain either. Daijhi appealed against the decision
on compassionate grounds but the legal process dragged on for years
during which all chance would be lost if Jayaram ever left the country.

Their story made
headlines around the world. This was no ordinary immigration dispute
where the State could claim a possible cost to public funds. Fortune
had smiled on Daijhi, and although he had been very poor as a young
man, by 1995 he had built a very successful company.

Glossy magazines
pictured the once poverty-stricken youth from the Himalayas now the
son and heir to a wealthy family with a large historic estate in the
heart of England. TV films portrayed the dramatic mountainside rescue
and the romantic integration of a simple mountain boy into sophisticated
British society. Newspapers and TV broadcasts all over the world covered
the twists and turns of a story that held intensive media attention
for two years. Youth magazines featured Jayaram as an icon for young
girls; the tabloid press looked for sensation and portrayed the whole
thing as a cult. Senior politicians from every political party were
questioned on their views. The Immigration Tribunal recommended a residence
visa. In a national radio poll, 80% of the listeners voted that 'Jay
should stay'. Even the High Court criticised Home Secretary Michael
Howard on his decision. It was the just before the 1997 General Election
but still the Government refused to give way. Then came the vote.

The Conservative
Party had not suffered such humiliation at the polls for 150 years.
18 years of continuous government with a massive majority in Parliament
was reduced to a broken party with barely enough members to fulfil its
function as the opposition. Journalists explained the general opinion
that the Party had seemed to lose human compassion. The new Government
certainly acted swiftly. On his first day in office, Labour Home Secretary
Jack Straw reversed Howard's decision and Jayaram was finally granted
residence. The whole process had taken seven years.

So it was that
Daijhi and Jayaram were finally able to return to Nepal in 1997. They
had never forgotten Jayaram's relatives in the Valley and his two families
were finally able to unite. On the festival of Tihar that year, Daijhi
formally became a brother to all members of the family in a simple ceremony
at their home. It was the only solution to an otherwise complicated
relationship and the simplicity of it allowed everyone to talk with
Daijhi as an equal.

But there was more
to do in Nepal. With a wealthy family company behind him, Daijhi had
the means to help the country further. His public campaign in Britain
had already provoked extra media attention to the poorly paid Gurkha
soldiers in the British army, the reality of child labour and the desperate
plight of orphans in the third world. Now he wanted to offer practical
assistance in the development of remote mountain areas.

The King, the Prime
Minister and many senior political and business figures received Daijhi
and considered his project to provide homes and work for unemployed
city dwellers in a new rural development zone. With a long standing
home in the French Alps, Daijhi thought to introduce modern European
mountain agriculture into the far West of the country. Vast areas of
government land were lying unused across the mountains for want of any
modern agricultural organisation and techniques. But the instability
of Nepali politics struck quickly and a succession of changing governments
made effective liaison impossible.

A second project
was more fruitful. As a younger man, Daijhi had been something of an
Alpine Ski racer and, with the highest mountains in the world, he thought
that Nepal should have an Olympic ski team. Besides promoting the image
of Nepal abroad, any success in skiing would encourage the development
of heli-ski facilities in the mountains and an increased income for
those areas. He offered to train and fund the team and worked with the
Nepal Olympic Committee to create a National Ski Association. After
many bureaucratic obstacles, the NSA was eventually ratified in December
2000 and the first two Nepali skiers are currently under training at
their base in France. Although there is a small chance of qualifying
for the 2002 Winter Olympics in America, the team is expected to make
its international debut at the World Championships in Switzerland in
2003